


Outlander Day

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, Reconciliation, spy boyfriend doing spy things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: Third and final part of the 'Finding Idan' arc.  Aramys attends a party in her honor, Outlander Day.  And she is forced to deal with her father's return, and the baby she's still yet to give birth to.





	Outlander Day

**Author's Note:**

> Idan is Aramys' father. Danna is the daughter of Aramys and Theron, this is about a month and a half pre-Nathema Conspiracy

"Outlander Day," Aramys scoffed, unable to look away from her reflection in the vanity. No amount of concealer she could apply would ever cover up the dark circles under her eyes. Nightmares of Theron or the baby that still inhabited her womb would keep her awake, phantom cries of an infant or the sound of combat would echo around her in the dark as she lay in bed. And now the voice of her father was among those audible hallucinations.

She straightened the silver hairpiece holding up a pile of braids intertwined with silver chains. "Whoever heard of such a thing."

"Considering this is the first one, I'd say not too many," Lana said from across the room.

"You know this is an awful idea, don't you?" Aramys asked, spinning on the vanity bench to face her. "Indo hasn't lured you to the dark side of party planning, has he?"

"I appreciated the recognition," Lana shrugged. "Is it so terrible that Zakuul wants to dedicate a day to celebrate our efforts?"

"Not all of Zakuul likes what we've done," Aramys said under her breath, Lana didn't hear her. "I used to adore these sorts of things."

"If the Empire was good at anything, it was extravagant parties," Lana said, a bit nostalgic. "You'd always get invited to the crazy ones and would drag me along."

"Unfortunately, if my lover had attended, he would have been killed on sight," Aramys said, her smirk shrinking into a small frown. Absentmindedly, she brought a hand to the necklace around her throat, spilling colorless gems across her collarbone. 

"So, what happened?" Lana asked, noticing the drop in Aramys' spirit.

"To what?" 

"You said you used to love parties like this, what changed?"

"I suppose I just lost interest," she said, returning her gaze to her own reflection. "My position in the Alliance isn't exactly one that has a lot of flair to it. Not like when I was a Darth. I can't boast about the burden of work I have as Commander. And don't forget about the person inside me refusing to vacate."

She had been dealing with the embarrassment of putting everyone on alert about possibly going into labor several days prior. It had turned out to be gas, which had left her mortified.

"Your mother did a lovely job with your dress," Lana said, admiring the gown as Aramys stood. Black shimmersilk brushed the floor, with a waistline that sat right above her belly, a black and silver beaded caplet covered her shoulders.   
"One of the upsides of being forced to tailor for a Sith Lord," Aramys said, swirling the full skirt. Despite the lack of gold in her ensemble, she fit in well with the gilded interior of the Zakuulan palace. "It'd look much nicer if it weren't for the giant-" Aramys gestured at her abdomen with exasperation.

"It's not that bad," Lana said through her teeth. 

"Lana, I look like a pregnant triangle."

"You make a very lovely triangle," Lana assured her.

Sounds from the party traveled through the halls as Aramys opened the door to the dressing room. She had been putting off her arrival, much to the frustration of Indo Zal. But the sooner she made her appearance and hung around a little, so the sooner she could get back to Odessen and take the longest nap of her life.

"You know, now that you mention it, you have developed a little bit of a waddle."

"Hush," Aramys glowered, "The next time a droid tells me what I'm feeling is 'just an abundance of gas, I'll rip it apart."

"I won't stop you," Lana said, biting her lip. She had been holding her tongue about an overhanging topic Aramys had been avoiding.

Her father had been found alive, and he had been returned to his family by Malcom. It was the same day that Aramys thought she'd gone into labor. Which she had used as an excuse not to see him. Before she promptly fled to Zakuul several days before the gala.

"You haven't seen your father yet," Lana said.

Aramys tilted her head as she stepped out into the large corridor. Trying to think of what to say, how to tell Lana that no, she hadn't spoken to her father since his return. She hadn't treated herself to a joyous reunion where they hugged each other and cried about how happy they were. The one she had dreamt about for years, ever since she woke one morning to find him gone, sent off to Korriban.

Never in those dreams did she think of how she'd feel about having to reveal her past to him. The overwhelming shame and guilt she'd feel; so immensely disappointed in the person she ended up becoming and how she had gotten here.

How could she ever face him after abandoned her mother and killed her brother? While she and her mother had managed to reconcile, it had taken years. Her father was one of the last pure memories she had left, the man who could never do wrong in her eyes. She'd held him up on a pedestal for so long.

He had become a Jedi, a heroic one no less. He could have changed; he could see her actions as cruel, wrong, manipulative, there were so many ways to judge what she'd done. The daughter Idan had left sleeping in her bed fifteen-years-ago on Ziost was long gone. Replaced by a twisted and broken doppelgänger.

"They're here tonight, you know," Lana said, bringing Aramys back from her introspection.

"I'm aware," Aramys sighed, stepping out onto the grand balcony that overlooked the party below.

"It appears you've started without us," Aramys said, coming to stand beside Senya, who held a half-empty glass of champagne. 

"I started drinking before I even got here," Senya grumbled, "I always hated these kinds of things."

"How could you hate this? Did you see the spread down there?" Koth said.  
"I'll have to check that out later," Aramys said, leaving the small group to go up to the balcony.

"Do you want a soda?" Koth asked.

"That'd be great, thank you." She responded without turning around.

"I feel sorry for her, having to do this sober," finished the champagne left in her glass. "Has she seen her father yet?"

"Not yet, and she's not talking about it either," Lana shook her head, snagging a small meatball on a stick from a serving droid tray as it went by.

"Watch out for that-" Senya began as Lana popped the appetizer into her mouth, "-It's gorak."

"Ugh," Lana spit the partially chewed food into the napkin it came on. "Why are we serving gorak?"

"Someone-" Senya stared icy blue daggers at Koth, "-requested it."

"Honestly?" Lana looked at him, immediately judging him.

"You never understood me, Lana," Koth said, jokingly. "I'm not surprised the Commander hasn't talked to her dad yet, she's never been much of a talker anyway."

"Maybe not to you, but believe me, this kind of silence isn't normal. She practically worshipped the man right up until the moment he turned out to be alive. I don't understand it, she's been infuriating and refuses to talk about it." Lana said, balling the napkin up in her fist.

"But she's okay, right?" Koth asked, straightening the formal jacket that was just a little too small for his shoulders. Aramys had initially purchased it for Theron when she thought he'd be around to attend. She had insisted he use it, or it would gather dust in her closet forever. He wasn't as close to Aramys as Lana was, something Lana never missed the chance to remind him-but she was his friend; she had proved he could trust her more times than he could count. Never in his life had anyone appreciated his opinion as much as she did.

"I'm not sure," Lana frowned. Senya looked up at her, worried.

Of all the idiotic things he'd done in his life, this was probably going to end up making it into the top five. Steadying his hand on the remote of a very stolen press droid, Theron settled into the cockpit of his shuttle. Which was precariously parked atop a building that wasn't made for landing. The flashing billboard secured to the roof provided the perfect hiding spot from Zakuul traffic patrols. There was no reason why he should be here, but he felt like he was going to lose it if he didn't see her at least once.

The video feed faded in and out of static, the signal struggling to transmit from the palace. A few smacks against his palm seemed to fix the problem.  
"Where are you?" he muttered to himself in the dark, only the glow from the screen providing any light.

The droid had no issue entering the party. No one cared about a press droid floating through the crowds of people. He could recognize a few from Odessen mixed throughout the others. Stopping every few feet to take fake shots of posing guests, he worked his way around the ballroom. Movement on a balcony overlooking everything caught his attention, and he floated the droid up to the edge.

There she was, a champagne flute filled with a bubbly pink soda clutched in her hands as she leaned against the gilded banister. Wistfully looking out at the party below. Lana hovered nearby, speaking to Senya and Koth quietly.

"Hey you," Theron whispered to the screen, zooming in on the profile of her face.

She probably wanted to be doing anything but this; he had accidentally turned her into a bit of a workaholic over the course of their relationship. All those late nights sitting in bed talking about intel and planning their next move. He watched her take a sip of her drink, wrinkling her nose at the carbonation.  
Theron settled back against the seat, getting comfortable so she could spend the night watching her. It was a little creepy if he thought about it long enough, but seeing her now made it all worth it.

Arcann approached her, holding out a fresh glass of the pink soda she was just now finishing. A distant smile greeted him. Theron would have preferred she kept Arcann at arm's length, but he didn't get a say anymore.

"You look lovely, Commander," Arcann said, the gravel in his voice making the audio crackle in Theron's ear. He grimaced, moving the droid a few inches back.

"Thank you," Aramys said, accepting the glass. "Having fun?"

"I've never really been one for parties."

"But you seem like such a social savant," Aramys laughed, "Did Valkorion throw a lot of parties like this?"

"My father enjoyed celebrating himself, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Better than most, due to unusual circumstances," Aramys sighed, propping herself up on her elbows. "I have a knack for getting narcissistic old men stuck in my head."

"I hope someday you plan to elaborate," Arcann chuckled.

"Someday."

"Enjoy the evening, Commander." Arcann tilted his head down in respect as he took several steps backward.

"Arcann, save a dance for me, will you?"

"If you wish."

"Don't count on it," Theron grumbled. Aramys pushed herself away from the balcony, walking back to Lana. She put a gentle hand on her shoulder, whispering something into her ear before disappearing into the hall.

Theron counted to ten silently before he sent the droid to follow her. She walked around the ballroom, greeting those who approached her. A forced but polite smile on her lips, not the kind of behavior she would have used in the Empire. 

He followed her for an hour, watching as she slowly got more and more exhausted. The pregnant gait she'd been able to hide for most of the evening had become exaggerated by her slumped shoulders. There was no reason for him to stick around any longer, except to watch her.

Hours could pass with him just watching her, but the longer he stayed, the higher the chance he'd be found. With one last look, she was chatting up a few Zakuulan nobles by the bar; he sent the droid to a secluded corner by the kitchens. He fondly thought on the night he and Aramys crash Vaylin's party, dressed up as Knights, as he had the droid wipe its core clean, rendering it completely useless. His shuttle came online, ready to sneak away back to where he was needed.

Just as he had several days before, he felt Aramys shout out in pain again. It was louder this time, making his head spin. He felt a tightness in his abdomen as he cursed himself for destroying the press droid.

"Shit," he said. There was no way he was going to figure out if that really was her or just his head trying to screw with him.

From the upper level of the ballroom, Idan paced with a blue cocktail in his hand. It was a Republic favorite, and he had to tell the bartender how to make it. He could see Aramys below, greeting and mingling with the guests. Her friend Lana, who Idan had already met briefly, was following her like Petra once followed their old slave master, Vemora.

"You made the dress, then?" he asked, looking back to Petra, who sat on one of the couches near the window.

"I did. Someone had to; no one knows how to make decent maternity gowns anymore," she sighed, folding a napkin in her lap for the third time tonight, a nervous habit. "At least not in this part of space."

"You did a wonderful job," Idan said, settling beside her.

"Aramys thought so too," Petra smiled for a moment. 

She had been the only one to greet him the day he arrived on Odessen with Supreme Commander Malcom. It was apparent by the way he had looked around that he'd expected their daughter to be with her. Aramys had already left the planet, fleeing to Zakuul the moment she was told she wasn't in labor and her father would be arriving shortly.

Petra shook her head, ashy blonde hair falling into her eyes from the braided updo she wore. Looking down at her lap, she unfolded the teal fabric napkin again, beginning to fold it once more.

"What is it?" Idan asked. Even after seventeen years, he could still read her like a book. It had once frustrated her, but it was a comforting thing to have back in her life. Now it only brought her comfort.

"I don't know what she's doing," Petra said softly, "I never understood her as you did."

"Clearly, I've lost that advantage," Idan snorted, sipping his drink. "I feel like I know her less than you do."

"Hm," Petra hummed, unsure of how to respond.

"Does she think I abandoned you both? To become a Jedi?"

"I-I don't know," Petra mumbled, folding the napkin faster.

"Petra," Idan said, knowing she was leaving something unsaid.

"It's nothing; it's fine."

"I might have missed a few years, but you still make the same face when something's bothering you-"

"I feel that way sometimes. Like you became this great legendary Jedi and didn't once try to come find us…"

"After Ziost was destroyed, I-"

"We both know you were made Bartenthor long before Ziost, Idan."

"Barsen'thor."

"Whatever." Petra rolled her eyes, "Did you even try?"

"Try what?" Idan said, his voice rising, "To invade the Empire by myself to rescue two people the Jedi told me to forget? They didn't want to recognize your existence, Petra. I told them over and over again that you and Aramys were slaves, that you needed me-But they didn't care. Two slaves in the Empire weren't worth their time or resources. They told me to forget you, to let you go, so much it almost became a personal mantra. So I did-I did for a little while. I let myself forget because it started to become unbearable to open my eyes every morning. I couldn't bring myself to eat as long as you were in my head. So I let you go, I'll admit that."

"You bastard," Petra snarled, her upper lip curling to expose her teeth; a primitive show of anger.

"I lost everything, and you were sitting in the grass on a sunny Republic planet forgetting about me. Fifteen years ago, Aramys turned herself in as a force sensitive rather than spend one more second with me as her mother. She risked her own life and safety to become a Sith so that she could get away from me. And then I was alone! Completely alone while you were, what, learning how to float a rock?"

"I know you're angry,"

"I'm not angry, Idan, I'm hurt. And I'm sure Aramys is too." Petra snapped, "Because you did forget about us, you had to. I understand that, but we are allowed to be hurt. Not once did we ever forget you. We didn't allow ourselves that luxury, because you were our strength for so long. And we thought you were dead. Remembering you-it was the only way to keep you alive. Aramys isn't handling it now, but she will. A lot has been going on lately, and she needs time. We can't force her."

Idan absorbed her words, taking a breath. To find himself in a position where he didn't know Aramys nearly as well as Petra did, it was dissociating. He began to question if anything in his life up until this moment had ever really happened at all, or if he was stuck in this suffocating loop of realizing the people he once loved were now strangers to him.

Aramys had grown into an adult without him, without anyone. She had friends he had never heard of; she was expecting a baby with a man who had betrayed her, a man Idan had never seen the face of. It was all so much; he was so busy worrying about what he missed, not for one second did he think about the parts of his life that they had missed.

How awful it must have felt for them that he became a Republic hero, naturally assuming that he never once tried to get back to them. But he had tried, so many times he had tried. The council and his peers had chastised him, told him he should have learned to let go of his attachments by that point in his training.  
There had been several times where he'd lock Ziost into the navigation, looking at it on his console and tracing his fingers over the holo, always finding New Adasta. He could only imagine how quickly his ship would be obliterated by the orbiting destroyers. It would be just seconds before he and his crew would be torn apart.

"Can we please talk about something else," Petra asked softly, unfolding the napkin again. "I can't argue about this one more minute."

"Alright," Idan said, reaching for her hand just as her comm went off. "Who is it?"

"Miss Beniko," Petra said, accepting the private transmission.

Idan waited in silence as Petra listened. She began asking questions about Aramys and whether or not she was alright. Idan stood, rushing to the balcony and looking down at the ballroom. His daughter wasn't anywhere to be seen. The party was going on as if nothing happened.

"What's the matter?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Aramys is in labor," Petra said, swallowing.

"I'm going to kill him! As soon as we find him, I'm going to murder him!" Aramys shouted, black hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her entire face was a bright shade of red, flushed from the pain of her contractions. Real ones, not just gas this time.

"You'll get no resistance from me," Lana said, allowing Aramys to squeeze her hand.

Zakuul had not been the place Aramys wanted to have a baby. Everything she needed was back home on Odessen. Soft blankets with animals on them, a mushy stuffed orokeet with an inaccurately pink body, even an expensive midwife droid sent by Malcom, which he took from a hospital on Coruscant.  
Instead, her daughter decided she wanted to be born in Arcann's childhood bedroom. 

The dress her mother had painstakingly made over the past few months was in a pile on the floor, and her hair had been haphazardly taken down, leaving multiple pins that sent strands of hair in every direction.

"Breathe, Aramys," Lana said in a soft voice, "You're almost done."

Aramys shook her head, clamping her eyes shut and contorting her face.  
"I can see the head, Commander," the Zakuulan doctor said. He turned to the droid at his side, "Are the blankets ready?"

"Of course, Doctor." The droid said.

"Commander, I need you to push now,"

"Lana, I want my father," Aramys said, pulling Lana close to her.

"I don't think now's the time-"

"Lana!"

"Aramys, this baby is coming. We don't have time to have a reunion right now." Lana said, scowling. Aramys went silent.

"Commander!" the doctor said.

With every last bit of energy, she had, along with an ear-shattering scream, Aramys pushed. Lana helped her, one hand around her bent knee and the other behind her back.

"I am never doing this again!" Aramys cried out, collapsing back against the mountain of pillows behind her.

"You don't have to," Lana assured her, applying a cold compress to Aramys' forehead.

"Commander, you need to push again."

"No," she whimpered.

"Come on," Lana forced Aramys back into a sitting position. "If you can kill the Emperor, you can certainly do this."

"I want my father," Aramys said weakly.

"You have this baby, and I'll go get him. He's right outside the door with everyone else."

Aramys let out another guttural scream, using everything she had.

The room went silent, and Aramys froze. She waited for the sound of an infant's cry, but none came. The seconds that passed felt like hours. She couldn't speak, panic now gripping her vocal cords. She grabbed the sheets beneath her, curling her fingers around it under her knuckles went white.

Then she heard it, the loud and angry cry of a baby. The doctor lifted the newborn to Aramys' chest, placing her on her mother's bare skin. She was bright pink and covered in things Aramys would preferably not have identified. But the baby was alive and making sure everyone in the palace knew it.

Unable to find a single word to say, Aramys carefully supported the baby with her hands. As her fingers touched her daughter for the first time, nothing else in the galaxy mattered.

"You're early," Aramys said, finding the ability to speak again. The baby had snuggled her head against Aramys' collarbone, her cries fading into tiny little whimpers.

Out in the hall, Senya offered Idan a glass of water. The party had long since ended, but those closest to her had chosen to camp out in the hall. Idan accepted the glass, offering it to Petra first.

"I hear crying, is that crying?" Koth jumped to his feet.

"That's a baby if I ever heard one," Senya said.

Idan looked at Petra, a smile on his lips.

"Don't rush her," Petra said, repeating herself from earlier.

"I said the same thing to you when she was seven and crying about Brevom leaving." Idan sounded more upset than nostalgic. He used to know Aramys better than he knew himself, now he didn't know her at all.

"I remember," Petra took a sip of water.

A silence fell between them as they listened to the cries of their new granddaughter soften. Petra had expected to be reunited with the man she fell in love with, but the Idan beside her wasn't that man anymore. He had scars from battles he'd likely never speak off, lightsaber scars on his arms and across his back. Emotional scars had developed during his time with the Jedi, and while invisible, they had considerably changed his character.

He seemed continually frustrated, unable to stop thinking, unable to stop his mind from going a million parsecs a minute. He was overwhelmed by everything and had none of the optimistic energy he once did. Petra now found herself taking the role he had taken with her when Aramys was little, as Aramys' constant guardian.

The few nights he'd been back, he'd slept on the floor beside her bed, used to the board like prison cots he'd been sleeping on. Each night he'd wake up from a dream, shouting for someone. She could never make out the name, but it didn't matter. Then he'd spend the rest of the night meditating. She'd watch him from her bed, counting each of his breaths until she fell back asleep.

"I hope she's alright," Idan said.

"She might not want to see you," Petra warned him.

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible.

"The more I think about it, the more I think it's not you that's keeping her away," Petra said, hugging the shall around her shoulders.

The idea had crossed Idan's mind as well. She could be staying away from him because she was afraid. What kind of things had she done to make her so terrified of his judgment? They had all done things they weren't proud of; there were several times where Idan had consciously gone against the Jedi code.

"There's nothing she could ever do that'd make me think any less of her," Idan said.

"Then tell her that," Senya said, butting in. "She needs to hear that from you."

"She usually knows what she's talking about," Petra nodded.

"Thank… you…" Idan said.

"Do you still want your father?" Lana asked, sitting at Aramys' beside as she cradled her daughter.

"In a minute," Aramys said, not taking her eyes off the baby. 

Swaddled in a blanket, with black tufts of hair flat against her scalp, Aramys' daughter opened her eyes. Looking at her mother, she brought a little, curled fist to her face. The eyes belonged to Theron, hazel and bright. Her skin was still a bright shade of pink, but she was still several shades darker than Aramys' porcelain skin. It was too early to tell who she'd take after in appearance, she looked more like a little old woman than a baby. 

"I was going to name her after him, you know. Idana."

"You still could," Lana said.

"I think Danna works just fine." Aramys shrugged, "Likely would have been her nickname anyway.

"Danna Lumielle," Lana said. "That's very pretty."

"Shan," Aramys added, making Lana frown.

"Maybe," Lana said, voice low.

"I believe in him, Lana."

"This isn't the time for this talk again," Lana stood. 

"Who would you like me to send in?"

"Who is out there?"

"Everyone," Lana sighed. "Koth, Senya, your parents...”

"My parents, please," Aramys said. The fact that she could now refer to her parents as alive still seemed unreal. For so long, she had no one but herself and the crew she built. She was a loner, often claiming to be an orphan rather than explain her unusual situation. They would walk through the door Lana had just used together. 

In seconds, they were there. Walking into the room, her father's hand on her mother's back. Aramys straightened herself, wincing at the pain it caused. She found herself unsure of what to say as they came to her bedside.

"Hi," was all that managed to come out, but it was more of a croak.

"Hello love," Idan beamed, looking at her like she was the only light in the universe. Just as he always had. It always made her feel like the most important person in the room.

"This is Danna," Aramys said, still lost on how to interact with him. Thankfully Idan seemed to understand her dilemma. He settled on the edge of the bed beside her, leaning over the baby in her arms to kiss her forehead. Aramys heard his breath hitch, and when he pulled away, she saw the tears he was trying to stop from falling.

Every emotion, every thought, she had been dealing with for the past few days suddenly overwhelmed her. It could have been the fact that her body was a hormonal mess, or that she had never been so tired in her life, but she began to cry as well. 

"I'm sorry," she said, a sob stuck in her throat.

"There isn't a single thing to be sorry for," Idan shook his head.

Aramys hadn't realized how much she missed the sound of his voice. Assuring her she was okay, that they'd be fine.

"Can I hold my granddaughter?" Petra said, offering her open arms. Idan and Aramys needed a moment to themselves; she understood that. Aramys nodded, allowing her mother to take the baby. 

Petra brought the baby out into the hall, quietly shutting the door behind her.

"Is everything alright?" Lana said, worried.

"It's going to be," Petra said, "I thought I'd give them some time."

"Hey, baby!" Koth looked down into Petra's arms. "How cool is it that you were born on Outlander Day?"

"She's big," Senya said.

"Nine pounds, I think is what the droid said…" Lana mumbled.

"Ouch." Senya clenched her teeth.

"She looks just like Aramys," Petra said warmly.

"How can you tell?" Koth asked.

"Did she settle on a name?" Senya asked Lana.

"Danna. But who knows, she might change her mind."

"Hi, Danna!" Koth said in sing-song. "Can I hold her?"

"Of course," Petra allowed Koth to take the baby from her arms.

"Oooh little baby, you've got some big shoes to fill!" Koth grinned, cradling the newborn.

"Watch her head- "Senya started.

"I know how to hold a baby, Senya." Koth glowered.

There had been only silence since Petra left the room. Father and daughter stared at each other, waiting for one of them to make a move.

"You were so little when I left," Idan said, nervously looking around the room. "It's hard to believe you're a mother already."

"I was thirteen," Aramys said, recalling the morning she woke, the left side of her face and neck covered in kolto bandages, to find him gone. Sent off to Korriban for defending her against an assault.

"Thirteen is little; you'll understand that now."

"So, you were named Barsen'thor. Lana told me that's quite an honor."

"It was redacted shortly after they realized who I was related to," Idan frowned.

Aramys wilted, those feelings of guilt once again rising in her throat.

"I don't blame you, Aramys," Idan said, reaching out for her hand. "I'll never blame you for their actions."

"Did you like it? Your time with the Jedi?" Aramys asked, absolutely terrified of the answer.

"I did, for a little while." Idan nodded. "But I found it suffocating after a few years. I was trained to be a healer, that can only get so exciting."

The silence settled on them again. Aramys grimaced as she shifted herself in the bed, sore in all kinds of places.

"When they told me that my daughter was sitting on the Dark Council at twenty-three-years-old, I didn't believe them." Idan anxiously chuckled.

"I did a lot of things I'm not-I'm not proud of."

"We all have," Idan said, his voice fading off as his mind wandered to all his questionable actions. "Still, I would have liked to have seen the look on Vemora's face when she found out about your position."

Aramys laughed.

"I can only imagine the shock she must have felt,"

"She told me she had always thought I was special; she tried to take the credit for it, claiming without her I wouldn't exist."

"She had a part in it, though you weren't conceived through the fertilizations she ordered."

"I wasn't?" Aramys' eyes widened.

"You didn't know that?"

"No, I always just assumed," Aramys said, "People don't usually put a lot of thought into how they were conceived."

"Most people would rather not know," Idan grumbled. He was one of those people. "You should rest, we can catch up later."

"I-I suppose you're right."

"Rest easy, love. I've got to go meet my granddaughter properly." Idan stood, straightening his shirt. "I love you."

"I love you too," Aramys said, feeling a warmth settle in her chest. Things might be alright after all.


End file.
